


You look at the arrow in your hand

by zinjadu



Series: Skip a stich, change the story [1]
Category: The Banner Saga (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, POV Second Person, Rook POV, this choice sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: Rook struggles with the choice about whether or not to let Alette take the silver arrow in the fight against Bellower.





	You look at the arrow in your hand

You look at the arrow in your hand.  It gleams in the light of the smith’s forge, the forge that lives on coal and lurks in the back of the room radiating heat.  You have been on the road and in the cold for so long even the banked heat feels like a brand on your skin. Alette stands in front of you with her mouth set in determination, and so like her mother that your heart breaks.  There is a choice in front of you. Your daughter has asked for the responsibility, not because she seeks glory or fame, but because she seeks what is right. 

 

She is the better shot, you know that.  You have watched her grow into a warrior, and you think that she does not need protecting anymore.  If she ever did.

 

And yet.

 

The arrow gleams.

 

Silver taken from a godstone at great risk, but it is not magical.  Juno told you the truth, you think. This arrow will not kill Bellower, but the sustained belief in the arrow might make him slumber for a long time.  Long enough for the world to recover, long enough for your daughter to grow and have children of her own and even past that.

 

You trust her.  You love her. That is the crux, that is the choice.  She could do this, and do this well, but you wonder what happens if it goes wrong.  If the arrow does not work, and others think she is to blame? You would be so proud of her.  You would be terrified for her.

 

She waits for you to make the choice, fingers gripping the wood of her bow so tight her knuckles turn white.  You glance back up at her, the last sliver of hope held halfway between you and your daughter. Breathing in deep you know you have already made the choice, it was merely the heavy weight of knowing there is a cost either way that stalled you.

 

“Alette,” you say, and the arrow gleams.


End file.
